City Lights
by Elliewelly1
Summary: One cold night, one lonely woman, one big jump, one man to catch her. Completely AU. Oneshot. Warning: Themes of suicide.


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**City Lights  
**Summary: One cold night, one lonely woman, one big jump, one man to catch her. Completely AU. Oneshot. Warning: Themes of suicide.

Her blue scarf is wrapped possessively around her neck.

The night is dark. It is supposedly about eleven. The sky is a canvas, one dark blue haze, beside the few hopeful stars that light up the sky, and that big full moon which cast down its light upon her. The city lights below her are beautiful, almost hypnotising, there's yellows and oranges and white, that reflect onto the gentle rolling waves beside the buildings, creating a yellow, orange and white rainbow on the water. A pattern of streetlamps lazily cast their orange glow and a few people below amble along the broken pavements, shadows only visible in that light, and theirselves otherwise completely invisible to the city scene. There's some pink lights and some green lights, too, signs for newsagents perhaps? But not strong enough to completely stand out, and she had never noticed them before. There are cars, as there always are in such busy places, but they are rarer than they are during the day. During the day there are jet black taxis and bright red buses and speeding cars crammed into that one stretch of road that passes by this building. But during the night there is not. Of course, there are still taxis and buses and cars, but they are rarer and more calm now. There are no sounds of tyres squealing on the road, car horns beeping or drivers shouting wildly at each other. There is just the sound of faint rumblings from the engines of them, and a slight squeak from a few older-looking cars as they slow at the traffic lights. There are still people on the pavement, though they appear invisible when walking in the shadows of the pavement, and they're not tourists that wander around taking pictures of everything and stopping in the middle of the pavement, causing others to bump into them and an arguement to follow, there are no workers in their plain suits with their grim-looking faces carrying their briefcases as their usually is, and there are no shoppers bustling about on the busy street, accidentally attacking people with their shopping bags and laughing like hyenas. There is simply a few locals that walk past, some maybe looking for a bus stop so they can get home, or hoping for a taxi to pass, some that are taking their dog on their final walk of the day, dressed in their pajamas, it looks, and seeming not to care, and people don't stare anyway, as if it's normal. There are a few that stumble along catcalling, but they're drink and soon stumble their way past, looking for another place to drink themselves into oblivion. But they are rarer than most, as most of the likes of them are still in clubs that are on every street corner. So it's mostly quieter than it is in the day. Peaceful. Tranquil.

She likes it when it is like this. Quiet. She's able to think then. During the day it's all arguments and stress and noise. There's people everywhere and there's no escape and there's no time for yourself. But at night it's nice. She likes the peace and quiet and she likes being able to mull over the days events. Thinking about what she's left behind to be here and everything that she will never have, like most people do here, that don't realise what they have. She likes the cold wind on her shoulders, lifting the scarf that is loosely tied around her neck, and she smiles when the wind whispers upon the back of her neck gently. She likes the wind running throud the strands of her hair and completely messing it up, and unlike most people she does not seem to care, as if she is in her own little world. She likes the cold, rough metal of the railings digging in against her palms as she leans on it to see down on the road below her. She likes being able to close her eyes and smile, knowing that she is completely alone and safe away from lifes hassle, and she can be who she wants to be here. Up here she doesn't have to talk to anyone and she doesn't have to be near to anyone, and she doesn't have to pretend to be happy. She doesn't have to lie that she likes being in the company of other people and she doesn't have to stay crammed in a stuffy room, and she doesn't have to act. Up here she is herself.

London isn't how she thought it would be. They all claim that it's amazing. When she told the few friends that she had back in Glasgow that she had decided to move down here they had literally squealed and asked her when they could visit her. They all told her about its beauty and the magnificent buildings and the tourist sights. And she had been to those places. A few of her friends had come down to London within the first week she had been here and they had all gone shopping, and went to see the sights. She has to admit that they do have some amazing shops, though they are extremely busy, and some of the sights are wonderful. But she has seen them all now. The main ones, anyway. What else was spectacular about this place? She doesn't find it a spectacular place to live. To visit, perhaps. But it's novelty has worn off now. People had failed to mention to her about the crimes around here, the rough areas around here, the muggings, the shootings, the stabbings, the suicides, the druggies, the murderers, the paedophiles, the homeless. What about them? Why do people not tell about them? Granted, she knew that there would be some around here. Everywhere she went there were people like that. But around here there were fourteen year old boys stabbing each other to death, nine year olds kicking little boys to death, kids killing kids!

She wonders what other secrets are hidden in London. It looks magnificent, she admits, as she watches it from the rooftop. It certainly does look beautiful, there is no denying that. But some of the people around here!

Though of course there are some good, kind people. People that remind her that life here is not all that bad. It isn't, really. There is just a lot of negatives as well as the positives that come to living here. And she probably only thinks of this place in such a way because people failed to warn her what it was really like. There were beautiful sights and beautiful people, but there were horrible things to see full of horrible people. There were different sections, some rough, some posh, and some just working class. There were gangs and hoodies and little boys with their stupid knives. There were tarts and there were prositutes and there were little girls dressing up for attention.

And then there were people like her old flatmate, Charlotte. She was a lovely girl. Twenty-three, just like her. They had got along perfectly, she had become her best friend. Charlotte was bubbly and bright and friendly, and she was always smiling. She was a typical girl, always had clothes scattered about the place and was glued to her phone, she was always gossiping with her about the men on TV and watching romances, and she was always gossiping or crying over her latest boyfriend. Charlotte was beautiful, too. She had long naturally platinum blonde hair that floated down to her waist and large, innocent blue eyes, with flawless skin and freckles dotted over her face like a puzzle. She had been her safe harbour, her best friend, the one who kept her on her feet. She had been the one who she had confided to about everything, about her dad, her supposed friends who had stopped contacting her after a month of being here, and why she had moved away from Glasgow in the first place.

But then, on the twenty-first of august two thousand and ten, Charlotte had been run over by a speeding vehicle, and instantly died at the impact.

Leaving her all alone.

She has been down here for nearly three months now. For the first month, she had her friends, Charlotte included, for the second month she had lost those supposed friends, and she had had Charlotte, her best friend, but now? For the third month? Well, now all she has is herself. And this thought alone brings tears to the front of her eyes. She grips the railings tighter, gritting her teeth as she tries to stop the tears that start to flow from her eyes. Thinking of Charlotte has only made her more sadder than she was earlier. Alice will never understand why she always thinks so sadly, she knows that it only causes her pain, it is as if her mind wants to punish her for everything that she has ever done wrong in her life by making her flash back through every sad memory that she owns. And she absolutely hates it. She feels so alone and her only comfort is the wind. And you cannot even see the wind.

Her hands steadily grow numb as she holds onto the railings for another half hour. Over this amount of time, clouds begin to form in the night sky, blocking the sight and the light of the beautiful moon and its gorgeous stars and the raindrops being the slowly drop, one by one. Alice breaths in deeply as the rain starts to trickle down, splashing by her feet in their individual droplets. Alice smiles slightly, closes her eyes and tips her head back so the raindrops beat against her cheeks, her lips, her eyelids and every other inch of her face. Her tears begin to mingle with the raindrops until it looks like she is crying no more. When she really is. She is crying for the childhood that she never had, for the friends that never liked her, for Charlotte who had been cruelly taken away from her, and for everything else. She is just a ticking bomb now, waiting for the right moment to explode. To break.

Alice starts and turns when she hears the noise of the rooftop door opening, spinning around quickly she sees a man stood there with a confused expression on his face. She is sure that she has seen him before, he obviously works here, maybe she has seen him around. Straight away she finds herself attracted to him. He has light brown messy hair that she would just love to run her hands through and light green eyes that she almost loses herself in. He is taller than average, by guessing she thinks maybe 6'1 or 6'2, but this could just be a little bit of a biased guess, as she is only 5'4 herself, therefore everyone is a giant to her. She almost smiles as she thinks of him as a giant. No, this man is not a giant, giants are supposedly angry and violent, are they not? Well he was a gentle giant, it looks to her, he does not look angry nor violent, he wears a small friendly smile and shuffles nervously on his feet. Yes. Definitely a gentle giant.

"Hello." He says nervously.

"Hi." She replies in an equally nervous tone. _Oh, northern accent... _she feels her knees go weak.

He runs a hand through his messy brown hair, messing it further, just as she wishes she could do, and then takes a few steps tentatively towards her, and she feels her grip tighten on the railings. She does not know why, it is not as if she is afraid of being approached by this man. Maybe it's the fact that she can smell him from where she is standing and he smells so amazing that he is making her knees grow weak even more, and she cannot stand upright without holding onto something.

"What are you doing up here?" He asks cautiously, glancing between her and the railings.

She smiles, "I come up here to take a break from everything."

He nods, as if he understands. How can he understand how she feels? Everything she ever once had has been lost all because of a silly, childish and lustful mistake she has made in her life. And she absolutely hates herself for it.

"What are you doing here?" She questions.

He shrugs, and takes a few more steps towards her, this time he comes to stand beside her, placing both of his hands on the railings just like she is doing. He stares out and studies the city in front of him. Taking in its bright lights and hyped up sights that he has grown so accustomed to these past six months, ever since moving down here after the death of his wife, Miranda. The city lights start to burn his eyes and he looks away, hating the lights. He hates how it hypnotises him and how it makes him believe that this place was good. Why had he ever escaped to here? Of all places? Everywhere was just work, tourists and angry people.

He looks at the woman in the corner of his eye. But not her. She is not angry, but neither is she peaceful. Oh no, he can tell that she is far from peaceful, she is very troubled indeed. Her big blue eyes say it all, to him. She has a faraway look in her eye as she gazes out at the view before them and holds onto the railings in a grip so tight that it seems almost painful to him. There is no amusement and no friendliness to her expression, though he doubts that she is a cold person. She has a guarded energy about her but he guesses that if he peels away the outer layers of her, he will be left with a warm, friendly person, who has perhaps suffered great loss, or has been hurt many times. Like himself.

She's a broken angel.

"I don't know, really." He finally answers her question.

They fall into silence and both stare out at the city before them. "You're Scottish." He says, "How come you're down here?"

She swallows nervously, "Personal reasons."

He nods, and smiles, "Ones you wont share with the stranger you just met on the rooftop."

She smiles half-heartedly, "Can you blame me?"

He shakes his head, chuckling, "No, I know exactly what you mean." _But you look lonely, _"What's your name, anyway?"

"Alice." She answers, and she breaks her gaze from the city lights to look at him, causing her heart to flutter slightly, "You?"

"Danny." He tells her, "Alice... It's a nice name." _Beautiful name. Little Alice in Wonderland. Lost._

She looks back out at the city lights, almost as if she is afraid of the compliment. She swallows, just as nervously as before, and they fall into silence. They listen to the rumblings of the cars that travel below them and they watch as the citizens of London carry on with their lives and stand in complete silence. It is not an awkward silence, although they have only just met, and rather more of a companiable silence. They just watch the hypnotising city lights and don't say anything. Danny's mind wanders and Alice closes her eyes again and just warms inside with the feel of the rain splattering on her face. She knows that she should probably not act like this in front of a stranger, what will he be thinking? But what does she care anymore? She doesn't. Not anymore. She doesn't care what people think of her.

Her grip tightens on the railings. The stupid, cold metal railings that keep her safe on this rooftop. What does she want to be safe for? What has she got to live for anymore? Her family have all turned their backs on her, her friends don't appear to care anymore, Charlotte's gone and she was all alone. What use was a life lived alone? All it is is pain. Pain and loneliness. And then you start to grow numb until you cannot feel anything anymore, and you do not remember how it feels to be happy. Alice needed Charlotte, she relied on her, so, so much. Her best friend. Her one and only best friend. Who was dead. She has nobody anymore.

"Why?"

Danny's voice breaks her from her reverie and she opens her eyes to find she is standing on the railings, the wind blowing around her and lifting that scarf up that she wears, the rain pattering against her face in a soothing rhythm. She can feel him hovering around behind her. What does he want from her? To step down? She doesn't even know if she can move, let alone jump. Can she jump? Really? Can she do that? Is that what Charlotte would want? No, of course Charlotte would never want anyone to take their own life, not after her sister... but this was different. Alice truly has nobody. She's thirty-three and she's all on her own and so what was the point in living?

"Who left you?"

She ignores him, and instead spreads her arms out, as if preparing to dive. She closes her eyes again, ignoring the hypnotising city lights that are simply screaming at her to jump, to get away from everything. She just stands and feels the rain beat against her face and lets the tears trickle down her cheeks again, mixing with the droplets of rain that are hammering down to the ground.

"I was left, too."

The winds around her throw her slightly off balance, but Danny has hold of her ankle now. Her scarf, a dark cobalt blue, the same colour as her eyes, lifts again, loosening around her neck furthermore.

"She died, Miranda did."

She can hear the sadness in his voice. But she does not want his pity. No, he is trying to sympathise with her so that she will step down. Why should she step down? She'll regret that decision, if she steps down, she knows she will. Because she knows that she will never be able to stand back up here like this ever again. And the feel of just being able to end it all right now was simply amazing.

"She left me a little Rosie, my daughter."

Rosie. Alice tries to imagine her. Does she have green eyes like Danny's? Does she have light brown hair like Danny's? Is it messy like Danny's? Is she tall? Most teenagers were nowadays, though. Or is she more like her mum? This Miranda? That said, that is if Miranda was Rosie's mum, Alice did make assumptions too much. This was something that Charlotte was always pointing out, the fact that she always presumed or made assumptions. She is trying to stop that now.

"And my little Rosie is the only reason I keep on going. Alice, some days I feel like jumping, too, I really do."

The wind whips her more violently and his grip slackens on her for a moment, as she wobbles and nearly teeters off the edge, both her ankles are encased by his huge hands. She feels safe in his hands, with him ready to catch her, whichever way she fell. But she knows that, really, she doesn't want that. She wants to give up. It's the easiest way out of all of this mess that was called life. She hates it, life, and she just wants to get away from it all.

"But I don't. Because I know that there's something to live for. There's something or someone out there that will get me through this messed up place called life. And Rosie is a part of that."

Her scarf is caught in the wind again, lifting up and loosening once more. Alice does not even bother to correct it back to how it should be. She doesn't know whether she wants it anymore. This scarf was bought by Charlotte. It was Charlotte's birthday present to her. She was the only one who got her a birthday present, her birthday being last month, when all of her friends had seemed to disappear off the face of the eart and forget about her. It was a thick, wooly blue scarf that Alice now wore every day since Charlotte died, because it was one of the only things that she has left of Charlotte.

"And, Alice, you have something to live for too, I know it."

At this point she snaps, "Oh yeah? Well you tell me what it that is Danny! I have nobody! NOBODY!" She screams.

"I feel like that too, some days." He admits in a tiny voice, "Somtimes I wish Rosie had never been born, so that I would feel less guilty if I... but then she'll walk into the room and brighten up my day, Alice. And she's just a eight year old girl. And she's suffering, too, Alice. She lost her Mum. I lost the love of my life. But you can get through it-"

"No I can't!" She yells stubbornly, "I-I- None of my family will talk to me! My friends seem to have dissappeared! And Charlotte-! Oh, god, Charlotte..." She trails off and bites back a sob.

"Who's Charlotte, Alice?"

"My best friend!"

"You have her-"

"She died." Alice states simply, and tries to move her ankle from Danny's iron grip, but he holds on determinedly.

"And why wont your family-?"

"Because I had a stupid affair with a married man and fell pregnant, that's why!"

His breath catches, "You're pregnant!"

"Yes!" Alice admits, the rain pounding down on her and the wind still trying to pull the scarf away from her.

"You see, Alice? THAT'S what you've got to live for! You've got a little baby- a creation of LIFE inside of you, you can't jump!"

"But-"

He cuts her off, "Alice, having a child is the most amazing thing, ever. If it wasn't for Rosie I would have ended up dead, I swear to god, I would have ended up killing myself. But I know Miranda would never EVER want that from me, and I couldn't leave little Rosie. She keeps me going every single day, and you've got that, Alice, you just need to realise what you HAVE got rather than what you haven't."

"I can't... Danny..." She sobs, beyond words.

"Have you thought of a name? How far along are you?"

"Charlotte." She says proudly, "It's gonna be a little girl, I know it is- and I'm four months pregnant."

"Charlotte." He repeats, and she can feel the smile in his voice, "That is a lovely thing to do, Alice."

The rain patters around them, splashing into puddles that the weather has already created. They are both soaked now. Alice's hair is hanging like rats tails and her clothes are literally dripping. Her beautiful face is patterned with a mixture of raindrops and tears, and her blue eyes are puffy from the crying. Danny's messy brown hair is clinging to his head, his clothes soaked and clinging tight to his body, and his hands are slipping on her jeans as he can't hold onto them properly from the rain. The wind is still impatiently blowing, trying to untie Alice's scarf away from her, trying to take what she holds onto of Charlotte away. She wants to move her hands and hold on tight to the scarf, but she doesn't, and she does not know why she doesn't, she just... can't.

Slowly, she begins to climb down, Danny instantly realeses her ankles as she does so, so that he does not get in the way. But he hovers around her, as if he thinks that she is going to suddenly climb back up and leap off. She knows she wants to. She really does. But what she wants to do and what she really should do are two completely different things. Danny's right. Not only would she be taking her own life anyway, she would be taking the unborn baby Charlotte's too, she would die a murderer. There was no way that she could do that. And that is not what Charlotte would want of her. What would Charlotte have said if she had seen how she had stood on the railings, ready to jump?

As she climbs down, her blue scarf finally manages to unravel itself from her neck, "No!" She cries as it falls, and she leans out a hand to grab it, but her hand clutches at air and the scarf falls out of her reach.

Danny places his arm around her shoulder, "How about we get you warmed up, eh?"

Alice nods, and he pulls her away from the edge of the rooftop, heading towards the door. Once they reach it, she pauses, causing him to. She pulls out of his grasp and turns, seeing the view. The city lights shine brightly, glimmering in their beautiful, hypnotising ways. She sees the city lights in a different way now though.

She turns back to Danny, "Thank you." She tells him honestly, smiling.

This is the place that may have lost her her friends, and Charlotte. But this is also the place that has brought her Charlotte, who she knew was looking over her. Who she knows has sent Danny to help her. And she knows that she will be alright. Her and her little baby, Charlotte. She'll have Danny, she knows she will, he's lost someone, too. They'll get through this together.

And finally, a long, woolly blue scarf lands on the pavements of London.

**I've been working on my description lately:') I dunno if you might find this a little out of character... but idgaf, tbh, i just write because i love it now, i dont write for the reviews anymore, because so many people are ignorant enough not to review. : / i mean mostly on other sides of ff though, not the wah side.**  
**I know that I should be updating my other fics, but most of them i started on my laptop, so it's hard to start them on paper. So for now i'm just doing oneshots that have been playing in my head. I wish I could say what inspired this or possessed me to think of this idea/write it. But I have no idea. I just found myself writing it suddenly.  
City Lights & The Rain are the most romantic things. Ever.**


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